


Spy vs Poli-Sci

by freudensteins_monster



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Assets & Handlers, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Mistaken Identity, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9449468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudensteins_monster/pseuds/freudensteins_monster
Summary: The Asset is sent to meet a contact at a coffee shop. He is a bit confused - as confused as a brainwashed puppet can be - to find that his contact is posing as an American tourist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just one of my many, many WIP's. I was going through my folder and reviewing some of them and figured I could get this one sewn up easily enough. Could have been better, and I could have tired harder with the ending, but I just wanted to get it out of my WIP folder without, you know, deleting it. :s

[Initially inspired by this tumblr post...](http://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/137952131732/where-an-international-spy-gets-the-wrong-intel%20)

 

The Asset wasn’t built for espionage, as his metal arm could attest, but as it was mid-November his bulky layers and leather gloves wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention. At least that’s what his handlers had said, in his general vicinity, and the Asset wasn’t capable of arguing with them. He wasn’t capable of _wanting_ to argue with them.

The mission itself was simple; Go to the meeting point, approach the contact, get the package, go to the extraction point. Simple.

The dark van pulled up in the blind spot of a parking garage three blocks out from the agreed upon meeting place and the Asset’s handlers went over his mission parameters again.

Go to Starbucks across the street from the railway station. Locate the contact. They will be seated in the corner booth wearing a blue shirt. Give them the ID challenge and wait for them to respond correctly before taking a seat. Get the package. Get out. Go to the extraction point.

The Asset nodded in understanding and exited the parking garage, staying out of security camera sight lines, and walked the three blocks to the designated meeting point. If the Asset had the ability to question his orders he would have thought it strange that he was being sent to meet another operative. From what he’d overheard, and filed away as irrelevant to the mission, the contact worked for an organisation that was uneasy about hiring a ghost, they’d wanted to see him in the flesh (and metal) to see if he was worth the price tag. Not that it mattered to the Asset; he went where he was told to go, killed who he was told to kill.

The Asset approached the coffee house, his training and programming causing him to be on the lookout for any suspicious persons or vehicles. He stepped inside, automatically registering the exits and categorising potential threats in the room. He remained motionless as patrons tried to squeeze passed his broad frame while he quickly surveyed the room and located his contact; corner table, blue shirt, female. That last part had been omitted from his briefing but it was of no consequence to the Asset. He had worked with female operatives before, he had trained some of the best ones, and the brunette at the corner table, hugging a ceramic mug to her chest as she peered down at a book, was definitely one of the better ones judging by how utterly comfortable she was in her surroundings.

He found the most efficient path through the maze of customers and approached her table, his gloved metal hand resting on the empty chair opposite her.

“How’s the coffee?” he challenged in Russian.

His contact tore her eyes, bright blue and framed by glasses, away from her book to glance up at him, a bashful smile playing on her lips as those same eyes looked him over.

“Uh… I wouldn’t know, I’m drinking tea,” she responded correctly in awkward, heavily accented Russian.

The Asset nodded in acceptance and sat down opposite Darcy Lewis.

** *** **

 _I hate blind dates_ , Darcy whined before reluctantly agreeing to one.

 _I really hate blind dates_ , she thought as she checked her watch to confirm that her date was most definitely late.

 _I am never speaking to my brother again_ , she swore half an hour later as she gave up all hope of her date showing up, digging a paperback out of her bag.

She’d been travelling around with Jane, zigzagging across Europe, from observatory to observatory, ever since SHIELD tricked them into going to Norway.

_“It’s a perfect opportunity to blah blah blah…”_

It had been exciting in those first few days, just like it had been immediately after Thor left and Jane kicked her research into high gear. Jane’s enthusiasm was contagious even if Darcy still didn’t _really_ understand the science, but after four months of non-stop sciencing Darcy needed a break. So when Jane finally decided to call it quits and head back to the States ( _“There’s totally some space event that can best be viewed from deserts of Arizona, and an old college professor who can totally hook you up with some telescope time, isn’t there?”_ ) Darcy decided to peel off and just be a twenty-something tourist for a while, with the promise of meeting back up with Jane when she finally ran out of money. It was when she’d just decided it time to move on from Prague and make her way to the pizza capital of the world when her brother finally got in touch with her after seeing facebook posts of her jealousy-inducing holiday snaps.

_“How much longer are you in Prague for?” he’d asked._

_“Uh, maybe another day or two. Why? Want me to pick up you up a souvenir?”_

_“I want you to meet my friend for a date.”_

_“What?!”_

_“You remember my first college roommate?”_

_“The guy that dropped out to become a metal guitarist before the end of the first semester?”_

_“Yeah, him. He’s been travelling across Europe with his band. He’s in Germany right now but he should be in Prague on Tuesday. You should meet him for coffee.”_

_“Why, Charlie?” she’d whined. “I’ve never even met the guy before, and you know how I hate blind dates… and you’ve totally already told him I’d do it, didn’t you?”_

_“Yes,” her older brother had laughed. “C’mon, Darce. He’s homesick and tired of being on the road with three Norwegians and a weird as fuck Estonian. He’s needs something familiar.”_

_“And nothing says ‘home’ like meeting a stranger in a Starbucks,” Darcy grumbled._

_“Please, Darce? He sounded so miserable last time I spoke to him I wanted to Fedex him a freaking puppy.”_

_“Fine,” Darcy sighed loudly. “But I was planning on leaving on Tuesday at the latest so he’s going to have to meet me at the Starbucks across the street from the train station. At ten,” she added after quickly checking the train timetable. “So, tell me more about him. What’s the name of his band?”_

_“Nuclear Casket.”_

_“Oh my god, I hate you.”_

Darcy’s thoughts of vengeance against her brother were halted by a shadow falling across her book.

“How’s the coffee?” a gravelly voice asked in Russian and Darcy groaned internally. Of course her brother had to tell him about her massacring the Russian language during Jane’s stint at the Pulkovo Astronomical Observatory, which led to her asking existential questions like, “Am I a coffee?”

Darcy took that embarrassment and folded it into her annoyance at the tardiness of her date, and had been fully prepared to rant at him, but one look at the man standing before her and she completely forget her frustration. His hair was long and his expression grim, but in his hoodie and dark jeans he looked more like an undercover cop than the politically active metal guitarist her brother had raved about. It was a really good look for him.

“Uh… I wouldn’t know,” she blushed, scrambling to remember the right words. “I’m drinking tea.”

He sat down across from her and as the lull in conversation became an awkward pause Darcy quickly rediscovered her earlier irritation.

“Seriously, you’re not even going to apologise for being, like, an hour late?” she snapped in English, earning her a confused expression.

The Asset wondered why his contact was affecting, rather perfectly, an American accent, but then he took stock of her appearance, and accepted it as a smart tactic; an American tourist didn’t warrant a second look.

“I’m two minutes early,” he replied confidently without needed to glance at a timepiece.

“What? What time did he give you?” she demanded.

“1100 hours.”

“Fucking idiot,” Darcy muttered, shooting off a text to that affect to her brother. “I swear, Charlie would have forgotten his own name if mom hadn’t written on his underwear. And yours is… Jimmy? Johnny? Jeremy? Shit,” she laughed. “I guess I’m just as bad.”

The Asset blanched as his contact stared at him expectantly. He had not been provided with a cover identity, it had not been deemed necessary. The Asset was not a person.

“Jimmy,” he replied, clinging to the first option. The name felt strange on his tongue, and didn’t sit quite right. “James,” he tried again. That was better, but still not right.

“Hi James, I’m Darcy,” she smiled, reaching across the table.

The Asset stared at her hand for a moment before shaking it. He hadn’t be prepared for such interactions. He hadn’t been programmed to make small talk. He was just supposed to take the package – an envelope with information on his next target – and go to the extraction point. Why was she dragging the meeting out? Did his new employers distrust his reputation so much that they would send one of their best operatives to size him up?

“So,” she sighed when he failed to make conversation. “I was expecting you, like, an hour ago, and now I’ve got to leave in ten minutes to make my train. I guess we’ll have to make do with the basics. So… name, rank, and serial number?” she teased.

The Asset flinched. He didn’t have an answer for her question, so why did it feel like he did? Why was he feeling anything?

“I don’t understand,” he muttered in disused English, more to himself than her. “I was just supposed to get the package.”

“Oh, right,” Darcy replied, remembering the request Charlie had made on her dates behalf. But perhaps she had this whole ‘blind date’ thing wrong. Or maybe Charlie oversold it to her just to be annoying. Apparently she was just supposed to act as the musician’s dealer.

She reached into her bag, not noticing how James tensed up and watched her movements, and dropped a bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in front of him. She never travelled without an emergency stash of American candy and she decided she was happy to part with the last of it if it made the guy across from her lose the kicked puppy expression.

The Asset stared at the bag of candy in utter confusion. He looked at his contact again, studying her closely, noting her lack of defined musculature and an absence of any hidden weapons, and realised his mistake; she _was_ an American tourist.

He stood up to leave, only for the girl to stand with him.

“Hey,” she called, pressing the bag into his hand. “It’ll be alright,” she promised him with a sweet smile. “Just… have some candy, go out and have a few drinks with some American backpackers, get a good night’s sleep…” she rambled.

Darcy deliberated a full second before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The Asset instinctively went to break her hold but froze when he realised it wasn’t an attack, it was an act of affection. The Asset wasn’t sure how he knew what affection was, his handlers certainly didn’t touch him like she did, but the Asset decided it was… nice.

“I have to go,” he said, reluctantly pulling away.

“Sure, just… call Charlie any time, regardless of the time difference, he won’t mind a bit,” she lied with a smirk.

The Asset tried to replicate the movement of her lips in reply before leaving the civilian in the coffee shop. He was barely halfway to the extraction point when a familiar dark van pulled up alongside him and ushered him in.

“We just got word that the contact was taken out in transit. You should not have waited so long to… what is that?” his handler asked him, all eyes in the van dropping to the orange bag held tightly in the Asset’s metal hand.

“Candy,” the Asset replied distantly as he recalled every detail of his interaction with the woman in the coffee shop. “32557038…” he muttered to himself, earning more worried glances from the heavily armed men in the van.

“What does that mean?” one of them demanded.

“I… I’m not sure,” he admitted.

His handler pulled out a red book and read from it, putting the Asset to sleep. He awoke screaming, strapped into the Chair, as electricity purged Darcy’s smile from his memory.

** *** **

Darcy was claiming a bunk in a rather picturesque backpacker hostel in Vienna when her brother called her back.

“Darce, I’m so sorry.”

“Say it with money transfers,” she shot back with a smirk.

“Jake was really looking forward to meeting you, but their van broke down as they crossed the border. They’re still stuck there waiting for it to get fixed.”

“Wait… what?”

** *** **

A few years later, after moving back Stateside following the Dark Elves debacle, Darcy stumbled out of her bedroom in search of coffee (an addiction she tried to kick between university courses) to find Jane sorting through a pile of notes that had been dumped on the coffee table whilst some breakfast news program played in the background. Darcy paid Jane no further mind until she took her first sip of coffee, sighing gratefully, and stood behind the couch to see what was happening in the world. Darcy blinked.

“Uh, Jane… why is my blind date making headlines?”

** *** **

Bucky had known Darcy Lewis was living at the Avengers compound for three months before he decided to approach her. She was seated in the lounge of the common room, holding a mug of something warm in one hand and balancing a tablet on her knee with the other.

“How’s the coffee?” he challenged, smiling as her shocked expression quickly softened.

“I wouldn’t know, I’m drinking tea,” she smiled back.

They regarded each other for several moments before nerves got the better of Bucky.

“Can I… Do you mind if I sit?”

“How about you get me a refill first,” she smirked, handing him her mug. “I feel like you’ve got one hell of a story to tell me.”

Boy, did he ever. And so he told her, all that he could remember, over several cups of tea. Darcy, he’d learnt, was extremely tactile, constantly reaching for him, and he couldn’t help but reciprocate in kind, and by the time he reached the part of the story that Darcy remembered they were practically sitting on top of each other. He’d thrown his metal arm behind her, resisting the instinct to yawn like he’d done so many times a lifetime ago, whilst the other strayed to her knees (she’d stretched her legs over his lap about five minutes into his story) as he recalled seeing her for the first time across a crowded café. He remembered the moment, and Darcy’s kindness, with great fondness, but the moment was ruined by an unladylike snort.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky grumbled as he attempted to glare at the girl in his lap.

“You thought I was a spy!” Darcy giggled hysterically.

Bucky groaned, burying his head in the crook of her neck, trying (and failing) not to notice the way Darcy’s ample chest moved against his as she laughed.

“What?” Darcy prodded as Bucky mumbled something into her skin.

“Corner table, blue shirt,” Bucky repeated when he lifted his head. “You fit the description, and you responded to the ID challenge correctly. How was I to know you weren’t my contact?”

“I think your first clue should have been that [my blue shirt](https://www.threadless.com/product/5959/The_Breakfast_Club/tab,girls/style,shirt) had cartoon breakfast foods on it,” she snorted. “What kind of spy wears shirts like that?”

“One pretending to be a college-aged American tourist,” Bucky retorted weakly.

“I _was_ a college-aged American tourist.”

“Yeah, I figured that out. Eventually.”

They laughed about it for several minutes before Darcy got up to get refills on their tea. Bucky suggested they switch to beer, later that night, when he took her out to dinner. Darcy happily agreed.


End file.
